Tug Dumbly - Amerigo Round in the Trumpocene

vertebrae

stack of

pollack

irish

jew

black

specks

of spics

fjords

of nords

o dem bones

each knuckle

and rib imported

and bbq sauced

together for one

good big

compendium beast

the dinosaur that roared

battened

fattened

on those

tired poor

muddled

asses   

that made 

all that 

art

science

culture

factory

in god

we trust

in dust

try

all dem bombs

and films

cherry picked

from the corpse

of europe’s wars

da jungly beat a’ dem

rock’n’roll slavers

jazzbluesfunkensoul

shipped direct to door

folkways beachcombed

from below decks drecks

of empire

borderlands bilgewater

dirty dough faces

greasy cultural yeast

from which rotten

rhizomes arose

to stab stars

with lightning forks

infected roots

of fertile disease

arise sir hillbilly

yokel whitman

hick thoreaux

beatnikian hippy

turning culture

to a counter

thank you for your

bongos

and rebellion rock

oil slicking a river

of soundtrack   

a negro cherokee

sings a song

by a mid-west jew

and all along the watchtower

a white rabbit

runs through the jungle

hasn’t nam made

its money back yet? 

never get out of the boat 

(hey, charlie’s over here now.

he’s stealing our jobs

as a mall shooter)

thankyou trailer white  

and copbait black

and rickety sweepings

of brittania’s trash

and europe’s slag tailings

and ireland’s beyond palings

thankyou lonesome

idiot wind

that blew their bones

across the pond

and speared hayseeds

through the flesh

of hank & bob 

they never asked royalties

just hand on heart

loyalties and

a flag

a rose

a cause

a pie to enshrine

their corpse in when

they’ve seared their shroud

to the eye of the globe.   

godbless your molten steel

and spine of factory trash

they also served     

to pop rivet a century’s dream

of itself

one hand smashed to heart

other to scar mangled spanner

the raw dumb beauty of all that

burnt human coal

that cannon fodder

that fed your furnace

greased your guns

and cultural gash

with cash gush

like black jism

from dem

oil wells

dat ends

well

in a hot oil

popcorn explosion

of a shanty continent  

winnowed to build your

myth from the second hand

smoke escaped through cattle car

cracks to butter bums for cinema seats

… deliver us from weevil

for thine is the king kong …     

who made your films

and poems and rockets

and bombs

who made your nazi-jew

dolls stitched together

in the franken miracle

of a kid’s chemistry set dream

of shooting up the moon  

and honest injun not forgetting

tonight’s meeting of n.a.

that’s native americans, ma

birth of a nation

death of a first nation

a spoodfeeding red river 

of ontap slaughterable

comanche commodities

for your moving pitchers

of blood

liquidation sale  

of redskin names

steer-branded

for your cars and teams

and war machines

pontiac

apache

iroquois

cherokee

you did ask right?

you did ask after

you killed them

if you could name

your killing machines

after them?

cultural appropriation?

don’t make me puke.

what loyalties

in puritan impurities?

what goes round comes round

what grinds the grounds

in a coffee coloured merry-go-round

appropriation’s a two way street

cherry bomb, cherry tree, cherry skin

quid pro quo sonny bono, bro

I got you, brave (cher was cherokee)

can’t say you never gave

like bucks to slaughter

they took to casinos

like diseased blankets 

ironies abound

are bound

to be boundless

as your irony horse

bounds the boundless

plains boundless 

bound to be a bit of

a blood spore

can’t fight a war without

some dirty stuff  

pooled in the door

of the great white way

give my scars to broadway

shows breed and burst from

plantation swamps,

book your ticket direct

on the underground railway

lice, auction, hammer

from auction block to box office

they’re queuing round the auction block

what goes round, comes round,

appropriation’s a ten lane freeway

gliding over scores of squaws

chiefs and braves, oiled on life

liberty and the pursuit of slaves   

it’s just passover by another name

the wise man built his house upon the graves …

just don’t forget

who you hitched a lift with

when your horse broke down

ran out of oil

don’t forget you’re standing   

on the shoulders of giants

who rode on the backs of slaves

and don’t forget whose taking arms tonight

and in whose aim you’re gonna be

so donald save the last round for me.